


Stuck in the Middle with You

by Erandir



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Genderqueer, Genderqueer Character, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-22 22:50:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2524601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erandir/pseuds/Erandir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rusco Mahariel has a lot to learn about Human culture, and Human culture has a lot to learn about them.<br/>Genderqueer Mahariel</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stuck in the Middle with You

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing tags were an adventure in trying not to misgender while also reaching the largest audience. Still feel kinda iffy about it.
> 
> All non-DA Elvish is actually just Quenya (Tolkien’s Elvish) because I’m a huge nerd.

_Yes, I'm stuck in the middle with you_  
_And I'm wondering what it is I should do_  
_It's so hard to keep this smile from my face_  
_Losing control, yeah I'm all over the place_  
 -“Stuck in the Middle with You”, Stealers Wheel

 

 

“I’m not a boy, you know,” Mahariel murmured one night as they sat about the campfire. The elf had been traveling with these two humans – and now a dog – for several days now and simply could not take it anymore. It should have come up earlier, but there was no good time to bring about a discussion such as this one. Actually, that was a lie. It did not come up because Rusco was a coward. The Dalish hunter was in a strange place, bereft of their clan, surrounded by strange humans, and how could humans be expected to understand the Dalish concept of gender? Raising grey eyes from the fire hesitantly, Rusco glanced at the others over the flames. Alistair looked confused for a short while as his mind processed the short sentence, then blushed and opened his mouth as though to begin stammering apologies. “I’m not a girl either.”

Alistair’s mouth snapped shut again immediately and he frowned in ever deeper confusion. Not a boy, and not a girl. Of course a human would not understand. Perhaps Rusco should not have bothered bringing it up and just let them continue assuming what they would.

“What your companion is trying to say is that they are of both genders,” Morrigan said, before Alistair could hurt himself by thinking too hard. “Or perhaps neither?”

Rusco was surprised, though supposed if there were a human who could understand this without having to be told, it was Morrigan. Alistair still looked confused. “The Dalish call it enel’we: one who is between.”

“The Chasind have a similar concept,” Morrigan commented, but did not expound upon it. Rusco supposed that explained why she seemed far less confused than Alistair.

“I’m only saying this so that you will stop calling me ‘he’,” the elf commented. It would be best if no one made a big deal about this. Rusco hoped that Alistair would not make a big deal about this, but watched the man nervously.

It was quite obvious that Alistair was still trying to wrap his mind around the concept. Rusco waited apprehensively for him to say something. “So… What should we call you then?” the man asked eventually.

“You can address me as ‘they’ or ‘it’,” Rusco replied.

“It?” Alistair asked, with a little surprise.

Mahariel only shrugged. Keeper Marethari had warned, as Rusco left with Duncan what felt like a lifetime ago, that this was a concept which humans might have difficulty with. This had become blatantly obvious to the elf when every human in Ostagar seemed to assume they were male. There was no reason for them to do so, except that Rusco’s physical appearance must have read male to them. There were plenty of women in the army, so it could not have been that. Rusco had never had to explain or defend themselves to anyone before, and at first was only confused and a little uncertain, but they did not want to argue with anyone there and so made no corrections even to Duncan. Now… Now it was different. It had become obvious that Mahariel would be stuck with these two humans for quite some time, and they simply could not bear it any longer.

Rusco was grateful when Alistair let the subject drop and said nothing further for the rest of the night, but still worried nervously whether this would be the last time it was brought up.

 

* * *

 

“—But do you think he—?”

“They.”

“I’m sorry?” Leliana was confused by the interruption.

Rusco had not meant to eavesdrop, but the camp was not very big, and there was little privacy to be had. It was impossible not to overhear everyone else’s conversations sometimes. Most of the time Rusco just ignored anything. There was often a similar lack of privacy among their clan, after all, and the elf was well used to pretending not to hear supposed private conversations. Upon catching this particular exchange however, Rusco could not help but listen.

“You called Rusco ‘he’,” Alistair was saying. “But it’s ‘they’.”

“What do you mean?” Leliana asked.

The woman had good intentions, but she really was quite ignorant about a lot of things. Rusco was still not certain how to feel about her. She seemed to treat the elf like a curiosity half the time, a personal encyclopedia for all things Elvhen, which Rusco found endlessly annoying. But she was always so apologetic when she put her foot in her mouth and said something offensive, and genuinely seemed to want to learn, so Rusco found it difficult to stay angry with her for long.

“I don’t really get it myself,” Alistair tried to explain, “But Rusco says they’re not a man, and doesn’t want to be called ‘he’.”

Rusco was pointedly not watching them, so did not notice when Leliana looked their way. “Then… Rusco is a girl?” she asked, and sounded stunned and mildly horrified.

“No,” Alistair replied. “Rusco’s not a boy or a girl. They just… are.”

“I don’t understand,” Leliana said.

“It’s a Dalish thing, apparently,” Alistair, bless his heart, was doing his very best to explain when even he did not understand the concept. He had been nothing but polite since Rusco had initially corrected him, and always corrected himself immediately if he slipped up. Though most of the time Rusco found that Alistair avoided pronouns entirely where the elf was involved. That was fine, also. “They have a word for it… I don’t remember. Something about being between genders. Or both at the same time? Anyway, just don’t say ‘he’ or ‘she’… And don’t ask about it, Rusco gets testy when you do.”

Maybe the elf had not needed to worry after all.

 

* * *

  
Rusco liked Shale. The golem’s frank honesty and uncomplicated worldview were a welcome change from the convoluted morals and confusing culture of the humans (and Qunari, but Sten was a whole other bag of confusion that Rusco would rather not get into) that Rusco had been traveling with. But there was one thing in specific that endeared the Dalish hunter to their interesting new companion. Shale lacked a concept of gender; at least in regards to “fleshy mortals”, as the golem would put it.

The first time that Shale had opened its mouth and addressed the elf as ‘it’, Rusco was filled with a sort of surprised happiness that had not been felt in quite a long time. It was the first time since leaving the clan that anyone had addressed Rusco properly without having to be told first. Soon after it became apparent that Shale addressed everyone this way, but that did nothing to temper Rusco’s happiness. The others seemed uncomfortable when the golem spoke of them like this, but Rusco felt only contentment, and proceeded to engage Shale in a discussion about the confusing and pointless way that humans insisted on assigning gender to things based on outward appearance. The golem’s thoughts on the matter were not exactly the same as Rusco’s, but they were close enough, and it was nice to have someone around who understood his confusion and frustration.

 

* * *

  
At first, Rusco kept Zevran close at hand in order to keep an eye on him. It would be foolish not to keep an eye on someone who had once tried to kill you. In time, though, Zevran made no further attempts on Rusco’s life, nor did anything to paint himself as less than trustworthy. After that, Rusco kept Zevran close at hand because the assassin was actually quite useful to have around, and it was rather nice to have another elf around for a change, even if Zevran was a flat-ear.

As time went on, though, Rusco found himself spending time with Zevran just because. Because Rusco _liked_ him. The assassin was funny, in an irreverent sort of way that Rusco appreciated more than some of their companions. Rusco could barely restrain his laughter whenever Zevran would tease their companions, or make some lewd joke, or witty comment. Often it was entirely the wrong moment for laughter, but the Warden could not help it. Zevran made Rusco feel like a giggling teenager with their first crush, and it was a wonderful feeling. And he was polite, in his own unique way, and flirty and _very_ attractive. And he seemed to think that Rusco was attractive, too, and made it no secret that he thought so.

“I am sure a handsome man such as yourself is well used to receiving such attention,” Zevran was saying in what was only their most recent bout of flirting. It seemed that every conversation they had eventually boiled down to this, but Rusco was not complaining. Well, there was one complaint. So far no one else had corrected Zevran, and Rusco had come to rely on the others far more than they were willing to admit. Rusco had let it slide the first couple times, as they always did to avoid making a scene or ruining the mood. But it ruined the mood for Rusco every time Zevran said that word as though it was nothing. “Man”. Rusco liked Zevran. A lot. But that only made it all the more terrifying. The others had been more-or-less accepting, and the Antivan was always touting his open-mindedness, but what if that was all talk? Zevran was an elf, but he had been raised in a human city. What if it was just too strange for him? He could be with a man or a woman, but what if he could not be with someone who was neither?

The stupid lovesick grin that had been plastered on Rusco’s face since they began talking slipped, and it did not go unnoticed. “Is something wrong, my dear Warden?”

“I…” Rusco hesitated. They hated talking about it, this subject that had never even been an issue a few months ago. “I’m not a man.”

Zevran stared at the other elf for a moment, stunned, and then quickly covered it up with his trademark smile. “Then may I say you are the most intriguing woman I have ever met?” he tried.

“No,” Rusco replied uncomfortably. Zevran’s smile faltered and Rusco could not look him in the face any longer. It was easy to see where all this flirting would eventually lead, and Rusco was afraid of rejection. “I’m not…” But the words would not come out. If it had been hard the first time, with Alistair and Morrigan, it was a thousand times harder now. “I’m just… me,” they finished lamely.

Zevran was silent. Rusco could not look at him. Seeing rejection in those eyes would hurt so much more than anything else. Eventually the assassin did speak up again, but his words were not as flippant and careless as Rusco was used to them being. “I see,” Zevran said slowly. “Then I fear I have been terribly rude up to this point. My apologies, Warden.” Rusco just nodded, unsure of what to say and still too afraid to look up into the Antivan’s face. “I will be sure not to make the same mistake again.” Slowly the assassin’s tone was regaining its usual carefree cadence. “But my original point still stands. A handsome elf such as you must be used to attention. Or am I wrong?”

Rusco blushed. The exact same sentence, only one word different, and the effect on him was so radically opposite. Instead of discomfort, Rusco felt flattered, giddy, aroused. The Dalish elf looked up again, and into Zevran’s eyes. He was smirking a little; smug son of a bitch. Whether he thought Rusco’s confession was strange or not, it apparently did not affect his attraction to the Warden one bit. In hindsight Rusco did not know why it had ever been a concern.

Surprising both of them, Rusco leaned forward and kissed the smirk off Zevran’s face. Right there in the middle of camp. In front of everyone. And did not care what they thought.

 

* * *

  
“So you and Rusco have…. You know?” Alistair asked somewhat awkwardly, glancing side-eyed at the Antivan elf as they walked. It was no secret that he still did not trust the assassin even half as much as his fellow Warden.

Zevran tore his gaze off of Rusco’s backside and looked over at the man. “Why don’t I save you the mental anguish of having to ask and get straight to the point?” he asked. “You are wondering about… Shall we say… The contents of their trousers, yes? Not that it is any of your business if Rusco does not wish to tell you, but I will say this: There is absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about our dear Warden’s anatomy. And I do know quite a bit about anatomy if I do say so myself.”

“I bet you do,” Alistair grumbled.

Zevran only laughed. “Rest assured, my friend, should you ever be presented with the opportunity, you need not fear finding anything strange. Although I do not know what else you would expect to find, a nug?”

“I—What?” Alistair stammered, and blushed, and gesticulated frantically. “That’s not—I didn’t mean—I was just… Wondering. That’s all. If it’s all… perfectly normal, then why such insistence that they’re…?”

“Does it matter?” Zevran asked, and shrugged. “What difference does it make what one calls themselves, so long as it makes them happy?”

“I… Suppose you’re right, it doesn’t matter” Alistair was forced to admit. It did not change anything. Rusco was still Rusco regardless of what pronoun they insisted on using. And he had long since stopped accidentally saying the wrong one. Even strangers sometimes picked up on it now when they heard all of Rusco’s companions refer to them in a certain way.

Ahead of them the elf in question had stopped walking and was looking over his shoulder at the pair, who were completely oblivious. “I can hear you two, you know,” Rusco said.

Both stopped in their tracks and turned their eyes to the Dalish elf. Alistair looked like a child who knew they were about to be scolded, but Zevran merely grinned innocently as though he had not a care in the world. He didn’t, but that was beside the point. Rusco frowned at them. The elf had grown used to the whispers behind his back, the invasive questions that humans always felt the need to ask. At least Alistair had never asked Rusco to their face. Alistair was nothing if not polite.

“Zev’s right, it’s not your business,” the elf scolded, and was glad when Alistair looked properly apologetic. “But…” Rusco hesitated, because this was a topic they tried to avoid talking about as much as possible. No one else had to discuss their gender and what was under their clothes as often as Rusco. Well, Zevran did, but that was because he wanted to. “Thank you for not looking at me differently.” It was something that should have been said a long time ago. None of them treated the elf any differently after they had been corrected, and that meant a lot. Not everyone was so understanding or willing to learn. This was something Rusco had learned the hard way.

“When have I ever looked at you with anything but fondness, my dear Warden?” Zevran asked with that stupid self-assured grin he always wore.

“There was that time you tried to kill us,” Alistair pointed out.

“Ah, details,” Zevran said flippantly, and trotted forward to sling an arm around Rusco’s shoulders affectionately. “Haven’t we moved past that by now?”

“Apparently,” Alistair mumbled to himself, and morosely watched the pair of elves walk arm and arm through the streets of Denerim, leaving him with only the dog for company.

**Author's Note:**

> Rusco – Quenya; “fox”  
> Enel’we – Quenya; from _enel_ : “between, in the middle” and - _wë_ : “person, individual”.  lit. “between person”


End file.
